Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
THE PARKING LOT IS FULLER now, brimming with cars parked illegally at the curb, tickets flapping under windshield wipers. Kids scream, and a group of girls who look a few years younger than us discreetly pass a bottle between them, pouring alcohol into Big Gulps.
By the time we reach the Jeep, two cars are prowling from either end of the parking lot, both angling to steal our spot.
“We’re never getting back in here,” I say to Jamie as we throw our wet, sandy beach gear into the covered trunk and climb in.
“That’s fine,” he says. “I think you’re done for the day. Your rash is spreading.”
I flush, my hand going to the back of my arm.
“It is not.” I flip down the sun visor and lift my shirt, twisting in my seat to see.
Sure enough, a new island nation has flared up, wrapping around my upper arm now, threatening in the direction of my chest. This new spot is pink only around the edges, while the rest of my rash is an angry crimson.
“Ugh.” I fish in my bag as Jamie navigates out of the parking spot, and by the time he finds the exit, I’m slathering more anti-itch cream on my breakout. Nothing but super sexy beach activities for me today.
As Jamie turns out onto the main road, he cranks the volume on the radio, and the terrible playlist from earlier picks up again.
“Ugh,” I say again, giving him an irritated look he pretends not to notice.
“You’ll live.” He glances in his mirror and frowns, muttering, “Always a BMW riding my ass.”
I glance behind us, and sure enough, there’s a black BMW tailgating us on this two-lane road.
“Stop looking.” He speeds up, and my hair whips across my face—and Jamie’s—as wind slices through the Jeep. Jamie splutters, waving a hand around until his fingers tangle in it.
“Ow!” I complain.
“Why am I being attacked by—what is this? Are these tentacles?”
I yank all my hair back onto my side of the Jeep and try to wrap it around my hand, preparing to constrain it in a low bun that will, without a doubt, make me look like a Founding Father.
“Hey, Vin Diesel, feel free to slow down,” I snap, rooting around in my bag for a hair tie. “We can’t take life one half-mile at a time if you kill us both in your death trap.”
Jamie raises his eyebrows. “You’ve seen that movie a lot, huh?”
I flush. “It’s an objectively good film.”
“ ‘Film,’ ” Jamie says with a laugh. “Someone call Cannes.”
“Oh, because you have such refined taste! How many times have I had to listen to you and Sawyer quote Top Gun?” I twist toward him as I finally finish tying back my hair.
“Top Gun is a classic!” Jamie says. “It’s literally a perfect movie.”
“Sure, I’ll take your word for it.” In truth, I’ve never seen it and never will, completely and wholly out of spite for my brother.
Jamie opens his mouth, but whatever he was about to say is lost as the BMW speeds around us, cutting across the double yellow line to pass. Then it swerves in front of us and comes to an abrupt stop.
Jamie hits his brakes so hard, the tires screech. I scream, grabbing onto the center console and reaching for the door handle, but there is no fucking door, and I end up scrabbling at air. At the same time, Jamie throws an arm out, catching me across the chest.
The BMW speeds off again, one middle finger pointed out the driver’s side window.
“Holy shit,” Jamie breathes. “Are you okay?”
I nod, words lodged in my throat along with my pounding heart.
“Blair,” Jamie says.
“Yeah.” The word leaves me in a breathless whoosh.
Jamie turns onto a side street, easing into an empty spot at the curb.
He unclicks his seat belt, and I start to do the same, turning in my seat.
I’m not even sure my legs will hold me up at this point, but before I have a chance to find out, Jamie has rounded the front of the Jeep and wrapped me up in his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, his words brushing along my neck. Standing on the curb, we’re the same height, my thighs bracketing his hips. The combined adrenaline of the almost-wreck and his nearness has me trembling.
He pulls back, and my hands drift from his back to his ribs, brushing bare skin. I fist my fingers in the low sides of his sleeveless shirt as he cups my face in his hands. “Are you hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. I’m okay.”
He brushes his thumbs over my cheekbones, and something in me clenches. My thighs tighten around his hips.
Jamie freezes, his gaze dropping between us as though he’s only just noticed how he’s holding me. Or how I’m holding him back. (The words “for dear life” come to mind.)
I force myself to relax, releasing his shirt to drop my hands in my lap. “Are you okay?”
Jamie draws away, tucking his hands in his pockets as he takes a step back. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He swallows hard, glancing toward the road we came from. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful—”
“Jamie, no. That wasn’t your fault.”
“I should’ve let him pass me.”
“You did nothing wrong. You aren’t responsible for other people’s issues, and especially not their actions.”
He rubs a hand over his mouth. “Right. Just my own.” He tugs on my seat belt, passing it to me so I can buckle in again. He doesn’t look at me as he returns to the driver’s seat. “You still okay with going somewhere? I can turn around.”
I should tell him to go back to the beach, to retreat to safer ground with a group of other people.
Being alone with him feels dangerous—not because of the BMW, or even the lack of doors on the Jeep.
But because now that he’s put distance between us again, I miss his closeness.
And any semblance of a feeling, be it lust or something much more complicated, can only be bad for us.
Still, I can’t make myself say it, because there is a part of me—one I can’t ignore anymore—that likes being alone with him.
The treasure-hoarding dragon in me wants to gobble up these moments like gold and gems, building a trove to curl up on.
Learning more about this mystery boy I’ve known for so long is a drug I can’t give up quite yet.
I clear my throat, forcing my voice not to betray me as I say, “Let’s keep going.”
I have a moment of regret when Jamie turns off the main road and parks in a lot that has very clear, threatening signs posted—“Permit Parking Only” and “Violators Will Be Towed at Their Expense.”
“Are we allowed to be here?” I ask as Jamie shuts off the Jeep.
“It’s fine.” He swings out and starts walking, glancing back only once when he seems to sense that I’m not following.
For my part, I’m still buckled into my seat, every rule-following gene in my body rebelling.
The corner of his mouth quirks, and he turns his head away as he schools his expression again. He quirks a finger at me.
“Fine,” I call, unbuckling and hopping out. “But if you get towed, it’s on you!”
“I won’t get towed.”
Luckily, the bones in my legs have solidified again after our brush with the BMW, and I’m able to cross the parking lot without wobbling.
“The signs say otherwise,” I reply when I reach him.
“Those are all for show,” he says, sounding exactly like he’s lying.
“We can discuss it further at the tow yard.”
“Well, that is our special place, isn’t it?”
I shove my shoulder into his, and he laughs.
The parking lot is for a sleek building made of mostly windows and concrete with dark wood accents, but I don’t see a sign until we reach the main path. “Barbara Watt Computer Science Building,” and below it, in smaller font: “Emerson University of Science and Technology.”
“This is EmTech?” I look around, startled. At Central Florida State, you know when you’re on campus: all the buildings are clustered in one clear area. But EmTech seems to exist in the center of town, with no delineation as to when we crossed the campus line.
Jamie nods, leading me up the path to the building and pulling open a door. He motions inside, leaning in close. “I want to show you something.”
I ignore the way that murmur slides through me.
I’m blasted with a cold shot of central air as I step through the door into the lobby, Jamie a warm presence at my back. I track sand across the polished concrete floor, and my damp clothes grow chilled. The slap of our sandals echoes through the empty lobby, which is deserted for the weekend.
A set of metal stairs on the left leads up to a second floor, but Jamie takes me past it and down a wide hallway lined with doors, until we reach one all the way at the end.
He leads me to a row of windows that look into the room, which is filled with cubicles and desktop computers, a long table in the middle with one abandoned laptop at an empty seat.
“What is this?”
“The lab for the Environmental Solutions Initiative.” He taps the window. “When I win that scholarship, this is where I’m going.”
I turn my head to look at him. His face is relaxed in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen, verging on… something close to hopeful.
“What do you mean? What about…” I don’t say “us” because it feels too personal, too intimate, even if I only mean the apartment and all of us, as roommates. “… your program now?”
“I only picked CFSU because I could afford it. EmTech doesn’t have ROTC.”
Picked? I stare at him. “You mean you got in?”
He nods.
“Oh my god, Jamie.” EmTech is the biggest tech school in the South. The Northeast has MIT, the West has Caltech, and we have EmTech. The big three. “That’s huge! Why didn’t I know this?”
“I shouldn’t have even applied. I knew I’d never get a scholarship, and I didn’t have the money. But I couldn’t let it go. And then…” He takes a deep breath. “And then I met someone, and the more we talked, the more I wanted it.”
My chest squeezes. He couldn’t mean… No. No, no, no.
“She’s got this incredible mind, and she started pushing me to try.”
“Jamie,” I say, breathless and staggered. “I’m—I had no idea you felt—”
“Oh my god, kid. I swear you need a hobby.”